


A Very Murray Christmas

by thatsoccercoach



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: Four days leading up to Christmas. Smells of cinnamon and nutmeg and dust from stored ornaments recently unpacked.Four days filled with Janet Murray’s Christmas memories, filled with making new ones. Unpacking childhood traditions. Hearing carols, singing them to their son.Joy, peace, anticipation, and celebration. Ian by her side, love surrounding her. Four chapters in her life leading up to the one Christmas she’ll never forget.





	1. Joy

                                                              

She vaguely remembered her mother saying something about the way that seeing the world through the eyes of a child brought a special kind of joy. Holidays in particular were like that, Mam had mentioned. She hadn’t understood it at the time, being all of twelve years old. It hadn’t made any sense at all though she had confidence that it wasn’t a lie. Mam didn’t lie, so she assumed that someday she’d understand.

Then she’d gotten older, been able to see beyond herself and she’d known that what Mam had said was true even though she didn’t completely  _feel_ it. She’d watched her brother, Jamie, as he stared at the decorated tree in all its’ glory. She’d witnessed his gobsmacked look when he saw the presents under the tree and watched his eyes light up as he opened them. And though their mother was gone at that point, she could see the truth in what she’d said those years ago.

That was when her own joy began to be realized through the joy of others.

When Mam died, there had been darkness and loss. There had been new responsibilities. The old places where happiness had been found –home, their garden, the kitchen– had no longer existed, at least not in the same way. Jenny had mourned the loss of more than her mother. She’d mourned the loss of joy. So when her little brother Jamie’s face lit up that Christmas after Mam had gone, Jenny had begun to understand what she’d said.

Now was the culmination of all that for her own Wee Jamie was squealing in incoherent excitement over the decorations she and Ian had put up last night while he was sleeping.

Ian’s family had done that when he was a child. After putting the children to bed, the Murrays would decorate the house for the holidays. Ian remembered with great fondness the moment of walking into rooms transformed overnight with glitter and bows by his parents’ handiwork. It was something he asked Jenny years ago if she would join him in doing as a gift to their own bairns whenever they came.

Their little boy had gone to bed, giggling over something his da had said, putting a smile on her own face as well. Ian had disappeared and crashing had come from the attic space overhead.

“Ian? Do ye need a hand then?”

“No,” he called back down.

“But yer leg has got to be giving you trouble, gettin’ up there and back down the ladder,” she raised an eyebrow at the empty hole in the ceiling where he’d disappeared.

“And ye’d be able to do it easier than I more’n eight months pregnant, Jen?” his voice came again, followed by a thud and a muffled curse.

She cringed. She didn’t like it, but he was right. Though he’d struggle to get things down from the attic she honestly wouldn’t have been any help.

“Here,” he grunted, shoving a giant plastic storage bin through the opening, dangling it over her head. “Dinna worry, I think it has lights and garlands. It isna heavy at all.”

She stretched as far as she could, her small stature becoming painfully obvious as her husband snorted with laughter while she bumped the container with her fingertips.

“Aye, and yer a whole lot o’ help,” he laughed.

“Shut up, Ian Murray! Ye ken ye couldna live wi’ out me,” she shot back, tone angry but a smile on her face anyway.

“Aye, ‘tis true,” he shrugged. “Here,” he scooted closer to the opening and braced himself in it to lower the decorations enough for her to reach.

It was true, the fact that he couldn’t live without her. He and Jamie had gone off to serve in Afghanistan several years ago. When he’d returned, without Jamie  _and_ without his leg, he’d relied on her to bring him back to life, to renew his heart and soul.

She lowered the bin to the ground as flecks of glitter along with bits of fluffy insulation rained down from the opening of the attic. Cracking open the lid she peeked inside.

“Och, Ian, ‘tis the stockings Mam made!” she whispered.

He popped his head back to look down at her again saying “Next year we’ll need another one, aye?” before scooting back to grab more.

“Jen!” he barked, another bin swinging down from the opening. “‘Tis a bit heavier,” he warned as she stretched out her arms.

They continued until all the decorations were brought out of storage. Jenny opened one bin after another, remembering stories that went along with the ornaments, imagining people who’d gifted them different knickknacks. One by one, items went up around the house.

A garland draped across the mantle, greenery swooping down them back up, tied with ridiculously gigantic velvet bows.

A tea service that had belonged to her aunt, decorated with hand-painted holly leaves and bright berries.

Wreaths that her godfather, Murtagh, had brought over earlier that day, branches cut from the woods and twisted into circles of greenery spangled with other leaves, berries, ribbons and baubles that he and Suzette had set into place.

The small train that Jamie, her brother, had loved watching for hours as a child set on the floor around their Christmas tree.  _That_ was probably her favorite moment of the whole evening. Ian had finally managed to twist himself down to the floor to set up the train and she’d gotten down there to correct his crooked train tracks and neither had been able to get up, deciding just to sit for a few minutes together, leaning back against the couch.

And it was all worth it the next morning when their son’s eyes lit up and she remembered the joy in her brother’s eyes when he’d seen their childhood home decorated. It was worth it when Ian looked with pride at the place he’d provided for their family, and the laughter they’d been able to bring to their child. It was all worth it, knowing that her mother had been right all along. There was so much to be gained from seeing the world through the eyes of a child. There was so much joy to be found if only one was watching.


	2. Anticipation

                                                            

“How’s many more, Mam?” Jamie asked, clapping his tiny hands together in excitement. “How’s many?”

“Weel, let’s count them again, wee Jamie,” she smiled, as he began pointing at the advent calendar, counting up to four, skipping a few numbers reaching ten only to loop back down to a lower number and begin again reminding her of the childhood favorite story where Narnia was stuck, always in winter, though they never had Christmas. She laughed and pulled him onto her lap as close as her growing belly would allow.

“Let’s count together then,” she prompted, pointing to the first day on the calendar while Jamie fidgeted impatiently.

It was a small wooden thing, rectangular with little drawers, one for each day in Advent. She thought that Murtagh had made it for herself and Willie when they were small but she couldn’t quite remember more than the fact that it  _existed_ in her childhood memories. Somehow, after all these years, it still had the smell of freshly hewn wood. Though she didn’t know for certain who made the small treasure, she was familiar with the sense of eager anticipation. It had filled her each evening as they gathered near the fire and she and her older brother slowly pulled out a tiny drawer, finding inside a delightful treasure and it filled her now, watching Jamie.

“Aye,” she affirmed, focusing once more on her son who had counted the days of Advent that had already passed them by in that typical fleeting, December-like way. “That’s how many days you’re opened. Now let’s count and see how many days left until Christmas!” She held wee Jamie’s hand in her own, balling it up and extending his index finger so as to point to the next several days.

“Fourteen days left until Christmas,  _mo chridhe_ ,” she told him as he watched her with round brown eyes, Ian’s eyes.

“And what?” he asked, shrugging bony little shoulders, making her laugh at his puzzled expression.

“And then what happens?” she asked him.

“Aye. And what?” he said again.

“Then it’s Christmas! And what do we do on Christmas?” Smiling brightly, she waited for his gleeful answer.

“Open giftes!” he raised his arms overhead in a cheer. “Why’s we waitin’, Mam?”

“We always wait until Christmas for that! We want everyone to be here wi’ us. Who comes on Christmas then?”

“Jamie?” he asked, tilting his head and pointing at himself. With a tiny twinge in her heart she remembered the Jamie who would not be with them on Christmas, missing in Afghanistan and never returned.

“Nay!” She managed a smile for her son and set him down then dug a fist into her aching back. “Yer already here! Murtagh and Suzette come and yer grandda and we’ll all be together to celebrate.”

_“How many more, Willie?” She lay flat on her belly, chin on her crossed arms, staring at their Advent calendar so closely their mam said her eyes might get crossed permanently._

_“Use yer eyes, Janet!” he rolled his own. “‘Tis right there in front of ye.”_

_“Fourteen,” she huffed indignantly. “What’s in the next one? Can ye guess it?” she pressed._

_“Last year we got a candy every day. Do ye no’ even remember that far back?”_

_“I was_ three  _and tha’s just a bairn, Willie! Now I’m four an’ I’ll ‘member next year!” she scowled in his direction then quickly went back to the Advent calendar, pulling out the drawers they’d already opened the past days._

_The truth was, she didn’t care if there was candy every day or even if the little drawer was empty. She just_  couldn’t wait  _for Christmas to come!_

_Their neighbors would come over too, John and Margaret and their baby who was nearly as old as their Jamie. Margaret always brought over spice cake. The best spice cake ever. Jenny could almost taste it on her tongue already, mouth watering._

_“Can we make it come faster, Willie?” she sulked._

_“‘O course we can’t!” Laughingly he looked at her beseeching face. “Mam and Da always say waitin’ is the best part but I dinna think I agree wi’ them on that.”_

Her memories faded into the past as she once more revelled in the present.

“And there’s more?” The little boy leaned against her, pressing his still-chubby cheek against her belly, waiting for a kick or nudge.

“More what then, Jamie?”

“More Murtaghs and ‘Zettes and Granddas. More peoples. More families!” His eyes lit up as he asked, thinking of all the people he adored in one place together, holding up one finger at a time as he listed them all.

“Nay, that’s all of us. That’s enough, is it no’? ‘Tis enough for yer mam to feed and host in this wee flat were we live!” she laughed. There were so many who were missing now. She still felt the holes left behind by those who were gone though the edges weren’t as raw anymore.

“I’m so ‘cited, Mam!” he yelled, backing away from her to raise his hands up in indication of  _just how intense_  his excitement was.

“Did I hear that my two favorite people are excited for the holidays?” Ian’s voice came from down the hall near the from door where he had apparently just come in from his day at work.

“Yes, Da! Yes! Fer Christmas!”

“And you?” He leaned down to give his wife a kiss once, then a second time, more slowly and gently.

“All I want is for the people I love the most to be under one roof, tired from leading up to the celebration. Hungry from waiting for a big meal. Hot because the radiator is either broken or it’s working but the room is sweltering and they’re wearing Christmas sweaters,” she laughed as did he.

“All my loved ones together,” she finished. “I cannae wait!”


	3. Peace

                                                             

_Peace is a strange thing. You can be in the presence of peace and not feel it at all or you can be in the midst of tumult and chaos and be consumed by peace_  she thought to herself as she sat in front of the blazing fire, cup of tea on the side table at the end of the couch.

Last week she and Ian had discussed him extending his hours at the physical therapy office where he worked.

“If I work a bit extra the next couple weeks, we’ll have more time together for the holiday. That makes sense, aye? Then we’ll not be apart just leading up to Christmas day or the days following but we’ll be together as a family,” he explained. He smiled at her in the way that made her say yes to anything even though she would pretend to fight him on it, Fraser stubbornness coming out.

“Doesna make a bit of sense, working extra to work less,” she argued.

“So yes?” he shot back, grinning, knowing that she thought it a good plan.

So he was working late and she was sitting by the fire while their son slept. Now she was alone with her thoughts. And she felt genuine peace for the first time in…years, a stark contrast to what she’d felt for so long.

_They’d shipped out only a few weeks ago. She’d seen both Ian and Jamie off at the airport, determined not to cry when they departed. Ian had kissed her hard, his hand at the back of her head, pressing her closer, roughly. She could feel the tug as his fingers caught the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck. She thought her heart might explode with every beat, squeezing and releasing in a crushing repetition that there was no way to sustain and actually survive._

_It was utterly ridiculous, knowing that they were safe and still feeling such fear and unrest._

_Now it was Christmas. She and Ian had been able to message one another since he’d been able to find internet service for once. He’d promised that he’d be home next Christmas. That they’d all be together again._

_But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to just let go and be at peace with the situation. Their first Christmas as an official couple, spent a world apart._

“Ye look like yer deep in thought,” came a voice from behind her.

Ian stood there, watching her carefully, a smile creeping across his face slowly, as if to do it too quickly would have broken the stillness of the mood.

“I’m debating whether snuggling farther back in this couch to get cosy will be worth it when I go to get up again,” she grinned back, choosing to focus on the moment. “But since yer here, you can help me back out so I suppose I’ll settle in!”

He laughed outright.

She’d always loved his laugh ever since they were children. Some people had harsh laughs that grated after a while. Others, particularly as children, had used their laughter to tease and taunt. But Ian, his laugh had always been pure joy.

_“Merry Christmas, Jen,” he whispered. “I ken it’s not exactly what we dreamed, but…”_

_“I have you, my husband. That’s all I need. You.” It was the truth. She didn’t need any more. But it didn’t mean that the hole left by the absence of her brother wasn’t there._

_“You don’t have all of me,” he corrected, waiting for her response. When she lifted an eyebrow he went on. “Weel, you have me but you dinna have my leg seeing as I left that behind in Afghanistan.”_

_She shoved him away then, causing him to laugh at her. It may have been the first time since his return that she’d heard him laugh like that._

_She remembered what it felt like to have a sense of calm. Peace right there at the periphery. So close she could almost grab onto it._

“Is our wee man in bed then?” he whispered, settling in behind her so she wouldn’t sink so far into the cushions and wrapping his arms around her, setting his hands on growing swell of their child.

“He is. He was all wound up, looking at the Advent calendar, counting down the days, asking what comes next and running around like he had endless energy and then crashing as soon as his head hit the pillow.  _God I love him, Ian,_ ” the tears began to well but she swiped them away, ever stoic though she knew that if anyone would understand, it would be her husband.

“Remember our first Christmas wi’ him? When we were both so excited for him but so worried at the same time?”

She felt him against her, chuckling, more than heard it.

“O’ course I do! We were both thrilled tha’ we got to have Christmas wi’ a bairn but at the same time there were parts that were awful! Jamie pullin’ on the tree and eating those branches, or when he wouldn’t stop fussing at Christmas mass.” She snuggled closer, replaying a series of memories in her mind.

“But now, you feel it too, right?” he asked gently. “This Christmas is different… at last. ‘Tis what the holiday is  _supposed_ to be. Seeing wee Jamie all excited, waiting for the new bairn knowing that things are right with us all,” he trailed off.

“Mmhm,” she mumbled, drowsily.

Outside there was the sound of carolers singing  _Silent Night_  and inside the room was warm and toasty as she sat, leaning into Ian. Christmas was upon them and for the first time in years she felt  _absolute_ peace.


	4. Celebration

                                                             

It had snowed overnight. Not enough to keep their family from coming for Christmas, but enough to dust the ground with a powder and make everything look fresh and clean. Their corner of the world felt even more festive and celebratory with the presence of snow.

Their little boy was beside himself with glee. It had taken him mere minutes after waking up that Christmas Eve morning to realize that they had snow. He’d pressed his tiny nose against the window, fogging it up with his breath, eager to see the world blanketed in white.

“Da! Did you seeit? Seeit, Da?” He tugged on the hem of Ian’s shirt, completely ignoring, in typical toddler manner, that his da was on the phone with someone.

“I saw, Jamie. Shhh. Da’s talking to Grandda,” he looked down at his son who was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “Sorry Da,” Ian spoke into the phone at his ear. “Jamie is sae excited about the snow and Christmas and all tha’ he can barely contain himself. What was it ye said?”

“Come here,  _mo chridhe_ ,” Jenny reached out her arms to her little boy. Though she was eager for the celebrations to begin, she also wanted to slow down and savor the moment and store up the lovely memories of their growing family on Christmas Eve morning. “Let’s put on some warmer clothes and we can go out in the snow before we get ready for yer grandda to come stay the night wi’ us for Christmas.”

“What ‘bout Murtagh and ‘Zette?” He shrugged his little shoulders and scrunched up his eyebrows as he asked, making his mother smile.

“They’ll be here tomorrow, on Christmas day. Only Grandda comes and stays the night wi’ us. Remember?” She knew he didn’t remember. He was too small. But traditions started now.

She and Ian had made so many plans over so many years, plans that had been interrupted, some that had even been destroyed. As children they’d made plans, not knowing what they’d have to overcome in order to make those dreams come true.

She remembered a year when she’d been all of maybe eight years old and Ian was but a baby in her eyes. 

She and Willie, Jamie and Ian had all been waiting for Christmas cookies to come out of the oven and Ian had proclaimed that  _he’d_  bake more cookies  _much sooner_  in the season when he was old enough to use the oven. Now, Ian was the one to make the first batch of cookies on the first day of December. It was the only thing he could bake, but he did it well. Now all those dreams and traditions were starting to come together. Now was the time to celebrate.

So, as their own tradition, Ian’s da came and stayed with them on Christmas Eve so he wouldn’t have to make the lengthy drive on Christmas day. So Jamie would always have his grandda on Christmas Eve.

“Oh, okay,” Jamie accepted the explanation of “only Grandda” immediately and easily.

Then it was time for snow! Coats were zipped, hats put on heads, and tiny mittens covered Jamie’s hands. Jenny could nearly  _see_ the days in their future when one child would have a missing mitten and the child would be mismatched, chaos reigning supreme as dreams came true.

“Do ye want me to take him outside, Jen?”

Her husband knew her back had been aching awfully since last night. He always knew things like that without her even saying a word. He knew her too well.

“No,” she rocked, back then forward just enough to use the momentum to get herself up and out of the chair. “I think a walk, a slow one,” she clarified, “Would help my back. And hips. And everything.” She rolled her eyes as she said it and he laughed at her.

“I know we both said we wanted kids. More than these two. But maybe this is enough.” She scowled as she tried to get her boots on.

“We both know that as soon as yer holdin’ this one, ye’ll be talking about the next,” came the mild retort from her husband.

She snorted. “Sure.”

It was true though.

They walked together, slowly, through the winter wonderland, trees dusted with a powdery covering. Ian looped his arm about her waist while she attempted to meet him step for step. The ground was covered with the icy whiteness just enough that Jamie thought snow was the best Christmas present in the world while they were thankful that it wasn’t deep enough to prevent their family from coming together to celebrate.

And when they were all chilled to the bone, noses red and runny, they went inside to have hot chocolate and put a thoroughly exhausted Jamie down for a nap.

The doorbell rang and she shook her head. “Didn’t you tell yer da to knock if he came ‘round at Jamie’s nap time?” She pursed her lips. Well, if he woke up from his nap, it was only one day. And if Jamie was cranky at least they’d have reinforcements to deal with the wee rascal!

“I told him to knock!” came the reply from the hallway leading to the door. “I’ve got it.”

Instead of the boisterous greeting she expected there was a long pause. Her father-in-law must have brought his bags or the Christmas presents to the front door and they were situating things instead of saying “hello” and catching up.

“Jen?” Ian’s voice sounded hesitant, almost puzzled. “Jen, ye ought to come here.”

Her husband blocked most of the doorway from view but she caught a flash of red as she got closer and he stepped aside.

There was her brother, Jamie, the one who had gone to Afghanistan and hadn’t returned.

He looked the same. Dimples in each ruddy cheek, his hair a bit too long and somewhat unruly. And red. His nose and forehead the same shape as their da’s had been, a legacy.

He looked different. There was a weathered look about him that hadn’t been there before. As if he’d seen things and been places and had left pieces of himself behind. He was with a woman, wild curls atop her own head. Even just standing there Jenny could tell that that woman held the pieces of her brother together as a whole.

She felt it welling up in her then, the Fraser fury that she full-well intended to unleash upon him.

For leaving them, though it was beyond his control. For bringing home this stranger, though it was plain to see that she loved him and he her. For making her think he was gone forever, though there must have been no other way.

But then, after all was out in the open, after she released it all, she had no doubt they would celebrate this Christmas like they never had before.

“Janet? I’ve come home,” he whispered in a husky voice.

And she opened her arms  _and the celebration began_.


End file.
